


Twelve Days of Gallavich

by SeaofRhye (orphan_account)



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Babies, Bartender!Ian, Christmas, Christmas Gallavich Fics, Day At The Beach, Did I Mention The Mpreg Is Strong With This Series? You've Been Warned, Domestic Fluff, Engaged Gallavich, Fic Tie-Ins, Homecoming, Kissing, Las Vegas, M/M, Mama Milkovich - Freeform, Mandy - Freeform, Mpreg, Prison Gallavich, Season 10 Spoilers, Sleeping Beauty - Freeform, Smol!Mickey, Surprise proposals, Tattoos, Trevor Is in One Story, Twelve Days of Gallavich Fics, Unplanned Pregnancy, Wedding, au!fic, bouncer!Mickey, fairytales - Freeform, good parenting, hospital mention, married gallavich - Freeform, pregnant!Mickey, sex mention, soldier!ian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:07:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21739582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/SeaofRhye
Summary: I decided to write twelve short stories all featuring our boys Ian and Mickey in various scenarios. Most are standalone, but one is in the "Wait For Me/Mine" verse. Enjoy and Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays!
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mandy Milkovich/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 162





	1. Prison Baby

It’s been five days since Ian got out of prison, and Mickey’s managed to irrevocably fuck up both their lives in about four and a half. 

One minute he’s sweating and groaning on the toilet, trying to pass what he thinks is a kidney stone, because he’s been in pain all morning and it’s only gotten worse, but if he can just pass the fucking thing, he’ll be fine. 

But as soon as something way too fucking big to be a stone starts to leave his body, he realizes what’s actually happening. What he told himself months ago couldn’t happen because even his luck couldn’t be that bad, so he repressed the fuck out of it until now.

It’s a goddamn miracle he stays conscious long enough to catch the thing--the baby--before it lands in the toilet. 

Then, of course, the screaming that emits from it causes the cell door to open and Mickey looks into the face of the guard, who’s staring at the scene like it’s an alien landing.

“Holy fuck, Milkovich.”

***  
Mickey doesn’t remember much after that. He wakes up in a real hospital and Ian’s sitting next to him holding his hand, which is cuffed to the bed. For a second he hopes it was all a bad dream and he just got shivved or something. Anything’s preferable to the alternative.

“Hey,” Ian says softly. “You okay?”

“Fantastic,” Mickey croaks. He credits what has to be a morphine drip for the fact that he’s not in pain. He looks around the room. “Where is it?”

“The baby’s in the NICU. He was premature, so they’re keeping a close eye on him.”

“Premature?”

“Early. By about six weeks, the doctor said.” 

Mickey’s throat closes up. “I didn’t know, Ian.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“Fuck,” Mickey swipes his hand over his eyes. “I could’ve fucking killed it and I never would’ve known.”

“Him,” Ian murmurs. “It’s a boy.” 

Mickey blinks, letting that finally register. “Oh, shit.” 

Ian lets out a broken sort of laugh, and Mickey glares at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Now I know why you were so hard to live with,” Ian says, smiling tentatively. “You were fucking hormonal.”

Mickey stares at him for a second, then he can’t help it--he chokes out a laugh, too. But his mind is reeling with what this all means for them.

“Jesus Christ, Gallagher, what are we gonna do with a fucking kid?”

Ian leans in and cups Mickey’s face in his hand. 

“We’ll do our best,” he says, meeting his eyes. “I’ll take him home, and I’ll bring him with me to visit you, and we’ll raise him when you get out.”

Mickey reaches up to trace his fingers over Ian’s cheekbone.

“It’s gonna be that easy, huh?”

Ian kisses Mickey’s palm. “If we do it together, maybe.”


	2. Day 2: Las Vegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mandy gets married.

Ian doesn’t know what possessed Mandy to have a wedding in Las Vegas, of all places, but her fiance was from Nevada and loved all things Vegas, so he and Mickey stocked up on sunscreen and drove down to walk her down the aisle (yes, she asked for both of them.) 

It’s a nice ceremony, despite the eye-smartingly tacky chapel decor and Elvis impersonator minister. Ian can barely keep a straight face, even less so when Mickey starts a drinking game where he takes a shot from his new flask every time somebody said “love.”

In a few brief minutes, Mandy tosses her bouquet in Ian’s general direction while kissing her new husband, and they’re both on their feet clapping because she’s happy, and that’s all Ian’s ever wanted her to be. They leave the chapel with their arms around each others’ shoulders and hit up the nearest restaurant-casino. 

Ian doesn’t recall much after the first round of drinks, even though it doesn’t take much to get him wasted when he’s on his meds and he tries to stay hydrated and all that, but it’s fucking Vegas and Mandy and Mickey are there with him (and Steve, Mandy’s husband,) and everything is so ridiculously bright and shiny and weird that the whole night feels like a dream. 

The next morning, he regrets ever looking at a tequila shot, because his entire body feels like it got hit head-first by a bus.

“Fuck…” he mumbles, turning away from the horribly bright desert sun coming through the window of their hotel room. He knows what he needs to do--re-hydrate, eat something and take his meds. And shower. Definitely shower. 

He gets out of bed with his eyes firmly closed and stumbles toward the mini-fridge. He finds a bottle of water and chugs it, extra charge be damned. After one bottle, he starts to feel a little more human. Time for the tricky part--ingesting solid food.

One bite into a banana, he has to run for the bathroom and puke up practically everything he ingested the night (and day, from the looks of it) before. Well, at least that part is over. He figures he’ll shower now and re-re-hydrate when he’s done. 

He’s just rinsing the shampoo out of his hair when the shower door is wrenched open and Mickey’s standing in front of him, shoving a finger in his face.

“What--?” Ian says, taking a step back. Then he blinks water out of his eyes and registers what’s on Mickey’s finger. A plain gold ring. 

It looks like a fucking wedding ring. 

It matches the one he’s just noticed currently resting on his left hand.

“What the fuck, Gallagher?!”


	3. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldier!Non-Bipolar!Ian comes home from a tour, and Mickey's waiting with big news.

Mickey had originally planned to be at the airport to greet Ian when he came home from his tour, but he’s decided to wait at the Gallaghers’ place and welcome him back right here, instead. 

Besides, it’s been five months since they saw each other in person, and he’s pretty sure they both want to be within walking distance of a bedroom with a locking door. 

He steps out onto the porch as soon as he gets a text from Ian that they’re “almost home,” and sure enough, he sees Fiona’s car in the distance and he can practically hear the excited Gallagher chatter before they even pull up to the curb.

Despite the chilly day, his entire body’s broken out into a sweat. He’s fucking nervous about seeing his own boyfriend, even though he’s been counting the days--fuck that, the minutes--until this moment. Part of his brain is warning him that Ian might be completely different, might be jet-lagged as fuck and maybe he won’t even want to see Mickey right now--

\--but the second Ian steps out of the car in his fatigues, the first thing his eyes land on is Mickey. He drops his bag, hurls himself through the gate, and as fast as Mickey rushes down the stairs, Ian’s faster. He fucking lifts him off the bottom stair, swings him onto the ground and kisses him so hard that Mickey has to remember to breathe through his nose before he passes out. 

“We'll give you a minute,” Lip says as the rest of the family laugh and walk past them. Mickey flips them off over Ian’s shoulder. 

As soon as the front door shuts, Ian breaks the kiss and pants happily, grabbing Mickey’s head in his hands like he can’t believe he’s real. Mickey laughs, feeling the same way.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Ian says, pressing his forehead against Mickey’s. Mickey missed just being able to touch Ian, and it's sending every one of his senses into overdrive. He feels dizzy.

Which reminds him of why he’s here in the first place. 

“I missed you, too,” he says, running his hand down Ian’s neck. “I got a surprise for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ian’s grinning so big that Mickey almost wants to drag this out, but decides he better not. 

“Remember Christmas?”

Ian laughs. “Why, you forget to give me something?”

“No, but you left something here,” Mickey rejoins, immediately wishing that had come out smoother, but fuck it. He unzips his jacket and presses Ian’s hand against his stomach. 

Ian’s face goes from amused to puzzled to--there it is, the penny’s fucking dropped. 

“Holy fuck,” he whispers, moving his hand over the small bump. “Are you--”

“No, I just ate a lot of pizza,” Mickey can’t help snarking. “Congrats, Gallagher, you’re gonna be a dad.”

Ian’s breath catches and he takes a step back. “Mick...why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to wait till you were back,” Mickey explains, pulling him closer. “Didn’t want to do this over a fucking Skype call.”

“How far--”

“About sixteen weeks, and I didn’t even realize until ten. Thought I had the flu.”

Ian’s still touching Mickey’s stomach. “Do you know what it is yet?”

“I think it’s a baby,” Mickey jokes, and laughs when Ian gives him a look. “Nah, I wasn’t gonna find out without you. If you’re free tomorrow, I got an appointment at the clinic for an ultrasound.”

Ian’s crying by now, and Mickey’s not far behind. He didn’t realize how emotional this would be, not just for Ian but for him, too. This is real in a way it wasn’t before, because now Ian knows.

“We’re having a baby,” Ian reiterates.

“Yeah, we are,” Mickey says proudly. “Welcome home.”


	4. Adventures in Babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Freddy meet up with Mickey. Minor S10 spoilers.

Ian loves his nephew. But he can tell already that Freddy is as big a fan of heat waves as he is. 

“I know it’s hot,” Ian says while Freddy fusses through his lunch. Ian glances towards the A/C unit in the living room window and wonders if he can turn it up without blowing a fuse--again.

“We can go to the pool later, how ‘bout that?” Ian says, coaxing another spoonful of mashed carrots into Freddy’s mouth. “Take a nice swim? That’ll cool us off.”

Freddy swallows the food, but doesn’t look any happier. Ian sighs, leaning back in his chair and wishing he could go one hour without sweating through his clothes.

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, because he’s trying not to swear (audibly) in front of the kid. He wipes his face with the hem of his shirt and gets up from the kitchen table to see if there are any sodas left. 

As soon as he opens the fridge door, the power goes out. 

“Oh, fucking great,” he groans. “It’s a blackout, Freddy!” 

Freddy just whines, and Ian quickly closes the fridge to keep the cool air in. 

“Hey, hey, it’s all right,” he says, lifting Freddy out of his high chair. “It’s okay, we just have to stay cool without the A/C for a few hours.” He glances around the house, trying to think of some way to keep the baby from overheating that doesn’t involve electricity.

“How ‘bout we go visit Uncle Mickey at the bar?” Ian suggests, mostly because he’s pretty sure the bar will still have power and he really wants to see Mickey. He pulls out his phone to text Lip, because the rule is that if Ian’s going to take either Freddy or Frannie anywhere, he has to check with Lip or Debbie first. Lip gives the okay, and Ian kisses Freddy’s sweaty little head in celebration.

“Okay, we’re gonna see Mickey and cool down! But first, let’s give you a bath.”

***  
By the time they get to the Alibi, Ian’s wondering why he bothered bathing Freddy or himself at all, because after the walk they’re just as sweaty as they were back home. 

At least the bar has power, and Ian breathes a sigh of relief when he’s met with a cool blast of air. He wheels Freddy’s stroller into the nearest booth and waves to Mickey, who’s cleaning glasses. Mickey raises his eyebrows in reply, finishes drying the glass in his hand, and comes over to him.

“Hey,” he says, glancing at Freddy. “What brings you guys here?”

“Power went out at home, and we need to avoid heatstroke,” Ian replies. “Want to say hi to Freddy?”

Mickey seems uncomfortable with that idea, even as Ian takes the baby out of the stroller. 

“I don’t think he likes me.”

“You just smell different than me or Lip,” Ian surmises, patting Freddy’s back. “He isn’t sure about you yet.”

Mickey still hangs back. “I’m not good with kids, Ian.”

Ian knows Mickey well enough to know when he’s referring--however obscurely--to Yevgeny, and he brushes a hand against Mickey’s arm.

“You got better,” he says, and leaves it at that. “Look, just hold him while I use the bathroom, okay? Two seconds.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait!” Mickey protests while Ian hands Freddy to him. “What if he takes a shit on me?”

“I changed him before we got here,” Ian says, making sure Mickey’s got a secure hold on the baby. “Just talk to him, let him get to know you a little.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to talk about?” Mickey calls after him, but Ian just throws a smile over his shoulder on his way to the restrooms.

He waits a few extra minutes after washing his hands, and pushes the door open slightly to see Mickey talking to Freddy. The baby’s looking around for Ian, but not crying. Ian steps out of the bathroom, careful not to let Mickey see him right away. 

“Relax, he’ll be back soon,” Mickey’s saying in a soft voice that Ian hasn’t heard him use in years--when they lived in Mickey’s house and took turns taking care of Yevgeny. 

“You like him a lot, huh?” Mickey continues, stroking Freddy’s head absently. “I like him, too. Even when he leaves me with little rugrats who have no idea who I am.”

Ian smiles, still hovering out of sight. It’s incredibly sweet seeing Mickey like this, and despite the hangups he has about his childcare abilities, he’s doing pretty well. Freddy’s calm in his arms, and Mickey’s holding him close like he used to hold Yevy at that age.

Someday, a voice in the back of Ian’s head pipes up, he wants to see Mickey hold their own kid like that. 

“Hey,” he says, walking toward them. “You guys getting along?”

“He’s alright,” Mickey says, handing Freddy back to Ian. He rubs Freddy’s cheek with a knuckle, and Ian’s heart swells when Freddy smiles at Mickey. 

“Shit,” Mickey says with a laugh. “He looks like your brother when he does that.”

Ian laughs, too. “I know.” 

“You guys thirsty? Water’s free.” 

“That’d be great.” Ian sits down in the booth and bounces Freddy in his lap as he waits for Mickey to come back.

“Think Uncle Mickey’s gonna be a good dad when we have kids?” Ian asks the baby. 

Freddy just smiles at him.


	5. Bartender & Bouncer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey work at the same bar.

“Got any ice?”

Ian looks up from the drink he’s pouring to see Mickey standing by the bar with another bloody nose.

“Jesus,” Ian groans, grabbing a clean towel. He wraps it around two ice cubes from the tray in the mini-fridge. “You know this isn’t a fight club, right? You’re just supposed to let people in and drag their drunk asses out.”

“Fuckwad started it,” Mickey asserts, pressing the makeshift compact against his face. “Said I looked like a fucking leather queen.”

Ian barely holds back a laugh. “It’s a gay bar, Mickey. Honest mistake.” What he doesn’t say is that Mickey’s preferred attire of dark shirts, black jeans and leather vest don’t help him much in this job. 

“I know you’re still new, but you gotta lock down that internalized homophobia,” Ian says. “You can’t headbutt every bear or twink who thinks you’re here for the same reasons they are.” 

“Not homophobic,” Mickey mutters. “I’m gay. Can’t be both, right?”

Ian almost spills half a bottle of gin that costs more than his rent. “Seriously? Of course you can! You are!”

“Shut up,” Mickey gripes from behind the towel. “I don’t have a problem with gay guys--”

“Until they talk to you,” Ian interrupts. “That’s a problem.”

Mickey takes the towel away to gage the blood loss, and sniffs. 

“Only the ones who say shit about you,” he says, in a tone that Ian’s not sure he was meant to hear. 

“What?”

Mickey glances at him, then away. “Guys are always talkin’ ‘bout what they wanna do to you. It’s sick.”

“Another hazard of the job,” Ian says, sweeping an arm to encompass the entirety of the room. “I just tune it out.”

Mickey grunts. “Whatever, Gallagher.” He tosses the bloodied towel back in Ian’s direction. “Thanks for the first aid.” 

Ian tosses the towel in the trash and shakes his head as he watches Mickey go back to his spot by the door. He’s been trying to play dumb because of Mickey’s general attitude, but he’s picking up on the fact that Mickey only seems to get into fights on the nights that Ian works here, and only because of shit that Mickey ostensibly hears people say about Ian.

Ian smiles to himself. Mickey’s probably going to get fired if he keeps headbutting patrons, and Ian can handle himself if it comes to it, but having him around is like having a really grumpy bodyguard watching his back. And every other part of him, though Ian pretends not to notice. 

All the same, he should probably ask Mickey on a date already.

When his shift is over, Ian makes his way to the front entrance and finds Mickey around the corner, smoking.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Mickey replies. “Nose stopped bleeding.”

“Great,” Ian tries not to let himself get too nervous to ask this. “Um, hey...do you want to go out sometime? Grab a drink somewhere that’s not here?”

That gets Mickey’s full attention, and Ian watches as his expression changes from startled to suspicious. 

“You asking me out, Gallagher?”

“You’ve been beating up anyone who talks shit about me for three weeks, so yeah, I’m asking you out.”

The corner of Mickey’s mouth creeps up almost involuntarily. He flicks his cigarette onto the sidewalk and turns to face Ian full on.

“What happens if I say yes?”

Ian smiles. “Then we’ll go out sometime. How’s next week?”

“How ‘bout tomorrow?”

“Works for me. Lunch at Patsy’s Pies? My sister works there, food’s decent.”

“Yeah,” Mickey says, stepping closer. “Sounds good.”

“On one condition,” Ian adds. “You stop punching people who hit on me, or talk about hitting on me. I’m as Southside as you, I can take care of myself.”

Mickey blinks. “It ever occur to you that I’m only hitting the pervs old enough to be your dad? Or granddad?”

“Still paying customers,” Ian says with a wry smile. “And I like older guys.”

Mickey shakes his head. “Well, shit, I’m only three years older than you. Maybe we should wait till we’re both on Social Security.”

Ian laughs. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just want you to keep your job. It would suck not having you around.”

“You’d miss me?” Mickey says in a lower voice, and by now they’re so close that it’s hard for Ian to focus on anything but Mickey’s mouth.

“I’d miss you,” Ian reiterates, and Mickey surges forward and kisses him. It’s sweet and surprisingly innocent. 

“Can I still threaten the geriatrics who try to grope you?” Mickey says when the kiss ends. 

Ian smiles and kisses him again. “Go ahead.”


	6. Proposal

They say a lot of things during sex. Usually brief instructions, the occasional “Is this okay?” or “Does this hurt?” when they’re trying something new, and the ever-appropriate “Fuck!” when things are really, really good.

But as of two minutes ago, neither of them has ever said what Ian just blurted out, for reasons even he doesn’t understand yet.

“The fuck did you just say?” Mickey pipes up, moments after Ian’s pulled out. He wishes he could roll over and pretend to fall asleep, but it would be cowardly (and un-Gallagher, really) to do that just to avoid an awkward conversation.

He still stalls for time, trying to distract Mickey by kissing his neck. 

“Ian?”

Ian gives up and moves just far enough so they’re face to face. “I...said ‘Marry me.’”

“Okay,” Mickey says in a patronizing voice. “Mind telling me why the fuck you said that?”

Ian shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know, I just said it.”

“Bullshit, Gallagher,” Mickey retorts. “You fucking proposed to me.”

“So what if I did? Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s a fucking big thing!” Mickey says, sitting up. “It means you want to get married, and this is how you let me know!”

“I’ve talked about it before, Mick,” Ian points out. “I want to marry you someday. We don’t have to have a wedding, or even a ceremony, but...we’re not breaking up anytime soon and we want to be together for as long as we’re both alive, so it makes sense.”

Mickey scoffs, arms folded over his chest. “Well, what if I said no?”

That hurts. “Then I won’t ask you again.”

Mickey stares at him. “That’s it? You ask, I say no, and we just pretend it never happened?”

Ian’s stomach twists. “I don’t know about that, but...nothing has to change.” He can see more questions in Mickey’s face, and decides to answer the most obvious one.

“Mick, I’m not gonna force you to get married again. If you hate the idea so much, we don’t have to do it. We can sign a piece of paper and leave it at that. I don’t care.” 

“No.”

Something goes cold in Ian’s chest when he hears that word. “Fine. Okay.”

“No, I mean…” Mickey reaches out to grasp Ian’s leg. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be just a fucking piece of paper. Not this time.”

Ian’s thrown. “This--are you saying yes?”

“The fuck else would I mean by that?” Mickey says, smiling. “Course I’ll marry you. I just always thought I’d be the one asking. You fucking stole my thunder.”

Ian bursts out laughing. “I did not! I thought you’d never ask me.”

“Well, I’m asking now!” Mickey retorts, shoving him playfully. “Ian Gallagher, will you fucking marry me?”

Ian grabs Mickey’s wrists, pins him to the mattress, and kisses him.

“I’ll fucking marry you, Mickey Milkovich.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I want this to be how Gallavich actually get engaged on the show. Thanks for reading!


	7. Seeing An Ex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A Gallavich Nativity" sort of epilogue. Trevor makes a re-appearance, but it all ends well.

It’s not every day Ian gets a Facebook notification about his ex. It’s also not every day that the notification is a birth announcement.

Ian smiles when he sees a picture of a tiny baby girl--Tara--wrapped up in a hospital blanket. He can’t tell how much she resembles Trevor, but he’s happy for him. 

He and Mickey just so happen to be en route to their pediatrician’s office to get Molly her vaccinations, so he mentions it to Mickey when they’re stopped at a red light.

“You wanna go see your ex’s baby while we’re there with ours?” Mickey says incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?”

Ian glances behind them to make sure Molly didn’t hear her dad swear, but she’s dozing in her carseat.

“I just want to say congratulations,” he replies. “You don’t have to come.”

“Fine,” Mickey sighs. “But after Molly’s appointment. You’re better at calming her down than I am.”

Ian pats his shoulder. “The important thing is, she won’t get mumps or measles. Plus, they use way smaller needles now, so it doesn’t hurt as much.” 

“Don’t see why you can’t do it at home,” Mickey grunts. “You’re the fucking EMT.”

“I’m not a doctor,” Ian reminds him, even though he knows this is mostly Mickey’s anxiety over having to see their kid in pain. “I’m not allowed to administer vaccines. Otherwise I would.”

Mickey shrugs, and Ian knows what it means.

“She’ll be okay, Mick,” he reminds him. “I know you hate this as much as she does, but she’ll be fine. We’ll be right there the whole time.”

“Then you’ll go see your ex,” Mickey says tersely. 

“Unless you want to come with me,” Ian offers, not wanting this to become a whole thing. “I could finally introduce you to Trevor.”

“The guy you were with while we were runnin’ off to Mexico, who dumped you when you told him?” Mickey laughs. “No fucking thank you.”

“Okay then,” Ian says, looking out the window. “Just me.”

***

After having to calm Molly down after two shots to the same arm, Ian feels like a monster at the thought of leaving her. So he asks Mickey again if they can’t just be adults and go see Trevor and his baby together.

“Okay,” Mickey says, like Ian’s been pestering him about it. “Okay, we’ll go with you.” 

“Great, thanks,” Ian says sincerely, putting his arm around Mickey as they ride up in the elevator. “Really, Mick. Thank you.”

“Yeah, well,” Mickey says grudgingly. “Whatever his kid looks like, Molly’s definitely cuter.”

Ian can’t contest that, especially when he sees Tara for the first time. She’s sweet, has Trevor’s eyes, but Mickey’s right--nothing on their own kid. Not that he’d say so out loud.

“She’s gorgeous,” he tells Trevor. “How was it?”

Trevor winces. “Never doing it again, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

Ian laughs and hands Tara back to him. “I felt the same way after Molly was born. At least you had drugs.”

“Yeah, and about four medical professionals misgendering me and shoving their fingers inside me,” Trevor says wryly. 

“Mis...what?” Mickey asks. Ian can tell he’s been biting back a lot of questions since they walked in the room. 

“It means they were using female pronouns, calling me ‘Mom’ and all that shit,” Trevor explains, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry, man,” Ian says, for what it’s worth. “Where’s Adam?”

“On the phone with his parents, hoping they’ll magically change their minds and want to meet their grandkid,” Trevor says lightly. “I wouldn’t count on it. His mom’s been okay with this whole thing, but his dad...well, he’s old-fashioned.”

“He doesn’t like you?” Mickey asks. 

“Understatement,” Trevor replies. “He hates me. Thinks I brainwashed Adam into dating me. We don’t talk much.”

Ian and Mickey exchange a look, and Mickey hands Molly over to Ian. 

“Your kid’s cute,” he says in a surprisingly genial tone. “Adam’s dad sounds like a fucking prick.” 

Trevor blinks. “Thanks.”

“Did Ian tell you the story of how Molly was born? It’s a good one.”

“Mick, I don’t think--” Ian begins, but Trevor leans back and smiles at him. 

“Go ahead, I don’t mind.”

So Ian tells the story, with Mickey chiming in with very colorful commentary, and by the end Trevor is laughing and staring at Ian like he’s a superhero. 

“Holy shit! Mickey, have you thought about being an EMT yourself?”

“Fuckin’ hell, no,” Mickey says, reaching over to where Molly’s perched on Ian’s lap and ruffling her hair. “Don’t want to see that more than once in a lifetime.”

“Really? So, you guys aren’t having any more kids?”

There it is, the million-dollar question. They look at each other, then at Molly, who is happily gumming Ian’s sleeve and doesn’t seem to have any opinion on the matter.

“We’re...open to the idea,” Ian says diplomatically. “But it was hard on me, and Mickey was amazing--”

“Stop,” Mickey snorts. “I was an asshole.”

“No, you weren’t,” Ian protests. “We wouldn’t mind another kid someday. We could foster one, or look into adopting, or one of us could do it. We’re keeping our options open.”

“One of you?” Trevor glances at Mickey. “Wow, are you a carrier, too?”

Mickey’s jaw clenches, because he doesn’t like anyone outside his and Ian’s already close-knit circle knowing that particular fact about him. But he gives Trevor a cursory nod in confirmation.

“Yeah. It didn’t take the first few times we tried, which is how Ian got knocked up, but...if I was gonna do it for anyone, I’d do it for Ian.”

Ian leans over and kisses his cheek. Trevor smiles at them.

“That’s how I feel about Adam,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually like Trevor, so I decided that just because he and Ian broke up, that didn't mean he couldn't move on and have his own family. Thanks for reading!


	8. Day at the Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is in the "Wait For Me/Mine" verse, just some cuteness because we need it.

"Seriously, just go!"

Ian and Mickey glance at each other ,then at Mandy, because they've already packed their stuff (and Mia's, who hates traveling light) for a day at the beach. But Mandy's been wrapped up in her niece since breakfast, and now she's telling them to go on ahead.

"I know you haven't had much alone time lately," she smirks. "So go, have some beach S-E-X, and Mia and I'll see you there later."

Ian ducks his head to hide a smile at the prospect of at least one child-free hour, and he catches Mickey's eye. As much as they love their daughter, she's been going through a very challenging stage this past month, and Mandy's already proven she can withstand sudden tantrums and inability to tolerate more than a minute of silence better than they can. 

"I mean, if you're sure," Ian says entirely for the sake of appearances. Mandy rolls her eyes at him.

"Go on, you losers," she says, and Mia pipes up "Losers!" and throws a Barbie at Mickey's feet.

"Mia, no throwing stuff at Dad!" Mickey says automatically, then glances down at the doll. "Why is that thing covered in nail polish?"

"Blood!" Mia says gleefully. "She was in a car 'sident!" 

"The fu--?" Mickey barely catches himself and stares as his sister. "Where'd she get that from?"

"I've been watching a lot of Grey's Anatomy on Netflix," Mandy admits, and Ian disguises his laugh as an unconvincing cough. "I try not to let her see the gory stuff, but she's picked up on some of it."

"Jesus," Mickey groans. "What's she do, make all her toys look like accident victims?"

"They're hurt," Mia says in response. "I fix them." 

Ian melts at that. He crouches down to pick up the doll and hand it back to her. 

"You're a good doctor, Mia," he says, smoothing her hair. "You fix your patients up, and Dad and I'll see you at the beach later, okay?"

"Kay," Mia says, already yanking her doll's arm like she's about to perform an amputation. Mickey bends down as far as he's able and kisses the top of her head. 

"Be good for Mandy, kiddo," he says, and she smiles at him. God, he would do anything for this kid, even when she's freaking him out. 

***

"You know that's creepy, right? That a four-year-old already knows what a car accident victim looks like?"

Ian laughs as they unfold their beach chairs. "Mick, she's a kid. She thinks it's all fake, which it is, at least on TV."

"I saw a guy get shot when I was five," Mickey says, digging through their beach bag for the sunscreen. "Didn't look like that."

Ian gets what he's trying to say. "It's not gonna mess her up, Mick. She's just playing."

"Yeah, I know," Mickey says softly, fiddling with the cap on the sunscreen. "But..."

"We can tell Mandy not to let her watch that shit, okay?"

"Fine," Mickey says, squeezing a generous dollop of sunscreen into his palm. "C'mere, you pasty-ass fuck."

Ian takes off his shirt to let Mickey slather him in the requisite two layers of the stuff.

"You and Mandy are pale, too, y'know," he says comfortably. 

"Fuck that, we're not Irish," Mickey snarks, sweeping his hands over Ian's shoulders and back. "We tan. You get sunburned in the middle of the night."

When he's done, Ian turns around and grabs the bottle. "Here, let me do you."

"Ah, that's okay," Mickey says. "I'll just keep my shirt on."

He tugs at the hem of his oversized t-shirt, and Ian realizes what's going on. 

"Mick," he says, squirting some sunscreen into his hand and rubbing it onto Mickey's bare arm. "You know you look great, right?"

"Don't gimme that," Mickey scoffs. "Don't tell me I'm beautiful and shit."

"I wasn't going to," Ian says, using up the rest of the sunscreen on Mickey's other arm and sweeping his hand down to touch Mickey's belly. "I was going to say you're a badass."

Mickey looks at him skeptically. "Just pregnant, actually. I'm not in control of anything."

"No, but your body is," Ian insists. "Did you know you have twice as much blood in your body right now?"

Mickey raises his eyebrows. "That would explain the insta-boners."

Ian chuckles, but stays on topic. "And the reason you can't lift anything heavier than Mia is because your muscles and ligaments are softening."

"This feel soft to you?" Mickey leers, grabbing Ian's wrist and directing it towards his crotch, but Ian pulls out of his grasp. 

"Wait a second. Your hips are widening--"

"Hey!" Mickey objects. "I liked where this was going."

"I'm not calling you fat," Ian laughs. "I'm trying to say that your body's doing all this because it just knows how. And that's the most badass thing I can think of." 

He puts his hands under Mickey's shirt, cupping his belly. 

"So, all that? That's your badassery going right to this baby."

Fuck. Mickey is pretty sure he loves him twenty times more than he did a minute ago. He reaches up and takes Ian's face in his hands. 

"Gallagher," he murmurs. "You don't know what you do to me."

Ian leans in and they kiss, slowly, because there's no need to rush.

"I have a pretty good idea," he says when they break apart.


	9. Wedding Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey get their own version of rings.

Mickey doesn’t want to wear a ring, and Ian gets why. The first time he saw Mickey with a ring on his finger, it made his stomach churn. It meant Mickey wasn’t his, legally at least, and somebody had gone to great lengths to make sure they couldn’t be anything but secrets to each other. 

So, yeah, he’s not going to buy Mickey a ring. But he wants to give him something for the wedding. He wouldn’t mind a ring for himself, but doesn’t want to create an awkward situation during the ceremony. 

He mulls over it for a few weeks, and finally comes to a decision that he’s pretty sure will satisfy both of them.

***

“A tattoo parlor?” Mickey laughs, two days after their wedding. “What, you want to get each other’s names on our asses?” 

Ian slings an arm around his shoulders and kisses his temple, too happy to make a sarcastic comment in return.

“No, something better,” he says. “We’ve got six hours till our flight, so I thought we could stop in and get some quick tats to celebrate getting married.”

“What tat takes less than six hours?”

“One that doesn’t involve doing it yourself with a dirty needle,” Ian says as they walk in. He goes up to the guy he talked to over the phone, who hands Mickey a laminated sheet of designs he’s pretty sure he won’t hate. 

“What’s all this for?” Mickey says, looking suspicious. 

“Our rings,” Ian says with a smile. “I know you didn’t want one, but I thought if we got matching tattoos on our fingers, it would be--”

He doesn’t finish the sentence because Mickey drops the sheet and pulls him in for a kiss. 

“Fuck yeah,” he says against Ian’s mouth. “Let’s do this.” 

Ian laughs. “We still have to pick the designs.”

Mickey turns to the guy at the counter, who’s watching with mild amusement. 

“Two black bands, one on each right ring finger. That sound good?”

“And I want mine to have an ‘M’ in the middle,” Ian adds. 

“Good idea.” Mickey glances at his knuckle tattoos. “Uh...think you can fit an ‘I’ on here somewhere?”

The tattoo guy chuckles. “No problem. You guys just get married?”

“Yeah, on Wednesday,” Ian says, thrilled to fucking bits to be able to say it. “He’s my--”

“Husband,” Mickey finishes proudly, and Ian would marry him again in a second just for that.

“Congratulations,” the guy says. “You want to do the tats together, or one at a time?”

They look at each other.

“Together.”


	10. Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little compliment battle between the boys.

Ian notices a look that often passes over Mickey’s face when they have some time alone, when they’re kissing or have just had sex, or like now, are cuddling on Ian’s bed after dinner. 

“What?” Ian finally asks. Mickey blinks.

“What? I’m just looking at you. You’re…” Mickey seems to struggle a little, but says it. “You’re fucking beautiful, Gallagher.”

Ian huffs a laugh. “Really? You think so?”

“Ah, c’mon, you know you’re hot as fuck,” Mickey joshes him. “But it’s not just that, it’s…” He trails his fingers over the neck of Ian’s worn old T-shirt. “You’re, like, beautiful in a way that’s got nothing to do with how you look.”

“Are you gonna sing?” 

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Shut up, I’m trying to be nice.”

“You’re already nice. You just don’t talk like this very often, unless you’re high.” Ian’s eyes widen. “Oh...are you high? And holding out on me? Not cool.”

“I’m not fuckin’ high,” Mickey says irritably. “Look, we bitched at each other a lot in jail, and sometimes I’d want to say this kinda shit to you, but then you’d be brushing your teeth too goddamn loud or you’d fart during sex--”

“Hey, you do that way more than me!”

“Whatever,” Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose. “I just want to say more of the...romantic shit that comes to mind, okay? Cause…”

It’s like Ian can suddenly read his mind. “Cause we can’t take any of this for granted.”

“Exactly. So can you just let me be a fucking sap sometimes?”

Ian rolls onto his side and brushes his nose against Mickey’s. 

“Sure. Be a sap. I think you’re beautiful, too.”

Mickey snorts. “Ian…”

“No, really. You have amazing eyes, and you actually look hot in a beard--”

“Oh, God,” Mickey winces, remembering his post-prison scruff years ago. “That itched like hell.”

“It was hot,” Ian insists, laughing. He traces a finger over Mickey’s jawline. “Really.”

“Anything else you like about me?”

Ian grins at the innuendo. “Pretty much everything, but I mean it. You’re fucking beautiful, too. Every way that counts.”

“Now you sound like you’re about to sing. Don’t or I’ll throw myself out the window.”

“No, don’t do that,” Ian laughs. “I just fixed it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”


	11. True Love's Kiss

Ian had never imagined he’d be riding to the aid of an enchanted prince.

He knew all about Princess Mandy, who had been cursed from birth to fall into a deadly sleep at the age of sixteen. But she had fallen in love with Prince Phillip, Ian’s brother, and relinquished her right to the throne in order to marry him and hopefully thwart the curse. Her older brother Prince Mikhailo had volunteered to take her place as victim of the curse, a valiant and noble sacrifice that all the kingdom had applauded.

Ian thought it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard of. And just the kind of thing Mickey would do. 

He’d ridden all night to the kingdom of Milkovich, where the prince had reportedly fallen asleep only days before. Ian wasted no time in riding up to the gates, and a quick look around told him that not only the prince, but the entire population of the castle were fast asleep as well. 

No time to waste, then.

Remembering the castle well, Ian sped up to Mickey’s chambers and flung the door open. Mickey was lying on his bed, as peaceful as if he’d just fallen asleep. He didn’t even appear to be enchanted. 

Ian crept closer and shook Mickey’s shoulder gently. He was a light sleeper, and would usually wake at the slightest touch. Nothing happened, though, even when Ian said his name very loudly just to be sure. 

He knew what he had to do, but a part of him held back. This might not work. He might not be...what was required to break this spell. And then Mickey would stay like this, maybe forever.

No, Ian decided. He would try, and if it didn’t work, he wouldn’t stop until he did find a way to break the spell. No matter what it took.

Right now, he had a job to do. 

He knelt down by the side of the bed, face level to Mickey’s, and smiled. Mickey always looked so calm when he slept. If it wasn’t a matter of curse-breaking, Ian would be tempted to let him stay this way for a while longer. 

He brushed Mickey’s hair out of his face, leaned in and kissed him. 

Nothing happened. 

Ian’s heart sank, and he couldn’t believe how crushed he felt to have actually failed.

“Mickey, I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I love you.” 

He was about to get to his feet when Mickey’s eyes fluttered, and he opened them to blink at Ian. 

“Gallagher, what took you so long?”


	12. In the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into the life of Mickey Milkovich's mother, and her relationship with the Gallaghers in their pre-Ian days.

“Mimi?”

Mimi Milkovich looks up from staring at the coffee pot as it fills. “What?”

“Table Four’s still waiting on their coffee.”

Mimi blinks, grabs the pot and heads toward the table, pulling herself together. It’s her first day back after her break, and she doesn’t want to look like she’s slacking off.

It’ll be fine, she tells herself, smiling as she fills cups and chats with grubby construction workers who look disappointed to see her brand-new wedding ring but congratulate her nonetheless. So you’re late, doesn’t mean anything. Give it a few more days and take a test. Probably just stress from the wedding.

Some wedding, she thinks with a trace of regret. Community center, hungover minister, secondhand dress so dingy it was more beige than white, and Iggy and Mickey had refused to sit still during the ceremony, so their grandmother had taken them outside to let off steam. Terry had made some remarks about how now that they were married, he wasn’t going to put up with the boys’ “attitudes” anymore, and she’d pretended not to hear the threat in his voice. She’d only smiled, promised to talk to them later, and left it at that. 

And now there was the tiny matter of a period that hadn’t shown up last month, and was late this month, too. Which, since Terry wasn’t one for using condoms or listening when she told him it “wasn’t a good time,” probably meant one thing. 

The smell of French toast on one of her orders makes her stomach turn, and that’s when she knows she doesn’t need a test--with Iggy, she hadn’t been able to stand the smell of eggs, and that went on for weeks before her mother had taken her to a doctor. With Mickey, just the sight of ketchup had made her gag. 

Her mother wouldn’t be sympathetic this time around, either. She’d say that it was better to be pregnant at nineteen and married to a man who owned a home, than a single mother at thirteen. This one, at least, would have siblings to look after them. This baby would have food to eat and clothes to wear, and a school to go to nearby. Terry isn’t easy to live with, but she would die before letting anything happen to her boys, and this baby wouldn’t be any different. 

She swings by Table 2, and flirts a little bit with the red-haired guy, John, who comes here on Tuesdays. She knows Terry would kill him if he knew, but what the hell. She has a thing for redheads, and he tips better if she makes him laugh. 

“Oh, Jesus,” her friend Jessie says, glancing out the window. “Hide the cash register, the Gallaghers are back.”

Mimi looks over to see Frank, Monica and their two kids come through the door. She prays they don’t land at one of her tables--Frank mostly drinks his meals, then delivers self-righteous speeches about the plight of the working man instead of tipping. Monica usually sneaks off to the bathroom and comes back high as a kite on something, while Fiona orders food for herself and her brother, and Lip reads out loud from one of the books he’s always toting around. Mimi can’t help slipping them free pie whenever they’re here. They’re good kids. Not their fault they’d be better off being raised by wolves.

“Drinks all around!” Frank announces as soon as they enter, and from the way Monica’s practically climbing on his back, Mimi can tell she’s already high on something. “My wife has just informed me that we are joyfully anticipating the birth of another Gallagher!”

Judging from the mixture of groans and smattered applause around the diner, Mimi can tell the family’s reputation precedes them. She’s inclined to agree with the groaners--those two do not need another baby. 

Neither does she, for that matter, but...this one might be a girl. She’s always wanted a girl, and she had a name all picked out before she found out Mickey was a boy--Mandy, after her grandmother. 

She shakes herself out of the daydream of a cuddly little baby girl in her arms and heads for the Gallaghers’ table with menus. 

“Congratulations,” she says with a tight smile. “Guess I lost the pool about how many kids you’d stop at, Monica.”

“What can I say, I love babies!” Monica trills back, her smile so wide Mimi can see her fillings. “Fiona and Lip are thrilled too, aren’t you, sweethearts?”

Fiona frowns at her mother. “I like having one brother.”

“Well, the next one might be a sister!” Monica replies, tousling her hair. “Would you like that?”

“Sisters suck,” Lip chimes in, and Fiona pinches him viciously in the arm. Before it can escalate, Mimi produces a pack of crayons and two paper placemats and plunks them down in front of the kids. 

“Drawing contest!” she announces. “Whoever can draw the prettiest picture of me wins!”

“Nonsense,” Frank says as Fiona and Lip scramble to grab the crayons. “Your beauty is timeless, Mimi. It puts me in mind of the artist--”

“Don’t flirt with me right in front of your wife, Frank,” Mimi says, rolling her eyes. “I’ll give you a minute to decide what you want.”

She turns to go, but at that very moment, Iggy and Mickey walk into the diner. Mickey’s got a bloody nose and Iggy’s looking around for her.

“Iggy, what happened to your brother?” she says, rushing over to scoop Mickey up and put him down in the nearest unoccupied booth. Iggy shrugs, tossing his backpack onto the seat.

“Some kid threw a rock at him on the playground,” he says, like it happens every day. Mimi stares at him.

“And you didn’t stop them?”

“He threw it back,” Iggy protests, looking at his little brother with pride. “Got the kid right in the head. It was cool!”

Mimi feels like banging her head on the table. “Igs, we talked about letting Mickey fight with other kids. He’s three, he’s too little for that.”

Iggy shrugs again, never one to concern himself too much with other people. “He did okay by himself.”

Mimi wants to ground him, mostly because she can’t ground Mickey yet, but instead she gets some water and cleans off Mickey’s face. Turns out he’s just got a small cut on his nose, nothing serious. 

“No more throwing rocks, Mouse,” she tells him, using his nickname because she just can’t help it. He’s her baby, and she worries about what Terry will do when he finds out that Mickey’s still being picked on. If she’s honest, that other snot-nosed little fuck deserved to have a rock thrown at their head. But everyone already expects her kids to be fuck-ups, and she can’t encourage that behavior. 

“You got homework?”

Iggy nods, taking his books out of his bag. 

“Okay, keep an eye on your brother and I’ll get you two some fries.” She kisses Mickey’s forehead, then Iggy’s, and goes back to her shift. 

A little while later, Monica floats up to the counter and gives Mimi a spacey smile. She must have switched to pot, because anything stronger usually makes her bounce off the walls. Mimi almost prefers pot-head Monica, because this one doesn’t try to dance on the tables or streak through the restaurant. 

“Those your kids?” Monica says, glancing over at the booth behind her. Mimi sighs.

“Monica, you’ve met them before. Iggy and Mickey.”

“Aww, they’re so big now!” Monica coos. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?”

“Yeah, especially when you don’t see them for a few months,” Mimi fires back, blaming the long day, the fact that her son was injured, and her fucking hormones for that. Not like Monica didn’t deserve it, though.

Monica looks at her for a second, then smiles. 

“Congratulations,” she says in a mock-whisper. “I noticed your tits are bigger, and we all know what that means.”

“Monica, Jesus!” Mimi blurts out, nearly spilling ice water all over her hands while she fills cups. “I’m not--I mean, I haven’t told anyone yet. I want to keep my job.”

“Ah, Patsy’s not gonna fire you for getting knocked up,” Monica predicts. “She’s got three kids at home, too. Us moms gotta stick together, right?”

Mimi takes a deep breath, because as well as she knows Monica has the maternal instincts of a snake, she still makes a point. Patsy’s never fired a pregnant worker before, and it’s not like Mimi’s ever given her a reason to let her go.

“And how cool will it be if our kids end up being friends?” Monica chatters on. “Maybe your kids and mine will get married someday! How cute would that be?”

“If you can stick around long enough to find out--” Mimi starts, but Julio the cook yells “Order for Table Four!” and she has to grab the plates out of the window. She carries them over to the table, ignoring Monica trailing behind her, and sets the plates down in front of the rest of the Gallaghers.

“We drew you pictures!” Fiona says, waving hers. “Mine’s better!”

Mimi laughs and takes hers and Lip’s, studying them for a minute. Truth be told, they’re both just scribbly shapes and lines that don’t look like much of anything, so she declares it a tie. 

“Hey, Lip,” she says before she can forget. “Could you check Iggy’s homework for him before you go? I’ll give you two bucks.”

“Four!” Lip counters, and Frank chuckles proudly. 

“Fine, four,” Mimi says wryly. “And if he passes his next math test, you get free pie. How’s that?”

Lip nods, and scoots out of the booth to run over to Iggy’s side. Mimi puts her hands on her hips and watches them for a minute.

Shitty parents or no, Fiona and Lip are good kids. She hopes her kids will be friends with them even when they’re older.

Who knows? She thinks, brushing a hand over her stomach as she walks back behind the counter. Maybe their new baby will be your best friend one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody ever talks about Mrs. Milkovich other than in the context of a dead mom, so I thought I'd flesh out her character a little bit. It's not technically Gallavich, but I wanted to focus to be on her instead of them. 
> 
> Finished! I got a cold this week and it's slowed down my updates, but I still managed to get twelve fics posted in twelve days! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read these stories. I don't know how many, if any, will end up becoming longer fics of their own. Hopefully a couple. 
> 
> Happy Holidays to all of you!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting one chapter a day until all 12 fics are up. Thank you for reading!


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